Eleven Chances
by Shiroi Hoshi
Summary: And with every new chance, they find and lose themselves all over again. They are together and then they are not. It doesn't matter if every "I love you" they ever exchanged resembled whispered poetry during 4ams, they are insubstantial three-worded prayers to a god who has damned them to their fate. "Perhaps in another world, we are not parallel lines." AOKURO AU.
1. Attempt 1:

**Hey guys, I'm re-using this idea from another story, but just a heads-up, it's going to be quite angsty so I hope you guys don't hate me.**

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Maybe it was the way he had walked into the classroom an entire half hour after the class began, or the way he had glided in right through the back door and sat down beside him without the lecturer sparing him a glance, but Aomine's attention is stolen, just like that.

The latecomer nudges his shoulder to Aomine's, his voice dropping down to a low whisper as he expresses his initial intention to skip class that morning, but changed his mind at the last minute because he'd thought it wouldn't be good to do that already during the first week of college. Aomine merely nods, unable to think of a proper reply except for a confused murmur of "oh, is that so?"

It isn't easy, but when class ends, Aomine turns to the boy and parts his lips, a request for the latter's name burning at the tip of his tongue. "So, what's—"

"Oi, Kuroko!"

Both of them snap their heads in the direction of the door, Aomine only so because the boy had done it so quickly and his eyes had flashed with something more than recognition. He watches Kuroko's lips tug up into a wide grin as he stands up, his chair scraping back and making the sort of screeching sounds Aomine despises.

"Kagami. Hey."

The tower of smiles saunters over and slings an arm around Kuroko's shoulders, leaving Aomine feeling like a third-wheel or a pile of unwanted bones, whichever is worse, as he dips his head in a light greeting. "Hey. Who's this?"

"Oh." Kuroko seems to finally remember Aomine's presence as he leans against his boyfriend, eyes pulling into crescents, the sides crinkling in a rather endearing way. "I'm sorry, what's your name? I swear I was going to ask, but I forgot."

"Aomine Daiki." Said male feels the syllables of his name scratching down his throat, wanting nothing but to sweep up his books and go back to the comfort of his apartment. Maybe have a cup of coffee before he naps the rest of the day away until dinner.

"Yes. Kagami," Kuroko tips his head up to press his lips against the taller boy's jaw, grinning. "This is Aomine Daiki, and he's hot. He's my new best friend."

Kagami's eyebrows lift, before the three of them burst into quiet chuckles, Aomine joining in only because he feels compelled to. There had been a clench in his chest when Kuroko had said that and he wonders if it's because he doesn't want to bear the responsibility of being a best friend, or because he doesn't want his chances to only be capped under the friend zone.

"Well then, hello, Kuroko's new best friend, I hope you know what you're getting into."

Aomine only knows that he can nod, because drama is what he hates most.

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**A/N: review please! ^^ hope you guys liked it. The chapters are going to be fluctuating in terms of length, because it was originally meant to be an 11 part oneshot.**


	2. Attempt 2:

Aomine's never really liked bars, but he likes witnessing drunken people make fools out of themselves, a lot more than he'd admit.

His head is propped up on a hand, elbow resting on the bar top as he slides his shot glass over the table from side to side between two spread fingers. Eyes on the dance floor, he watches two tipsy men grind against each other, fire written in the patterns their fingertips are tracing over each other's back. Aomine catches on a few moans but he's not interested, only counting down the seconds until they stumble off the dance floor and out the door, and until another pair replaces their spot.

There is the sound of heavy glass slamming against the marble top of the bar and a slur of, "one more." Aomine spins in his seat to face where his back had been previously, only now noticing the familiar tousle of turquoise and that annoying habit of fingertips drumming over the table. The bartender slides another bottle of what looks like rum over the bar top over to Kuroko, who wraps his fingers around the neck clumsily.

The sickeningly sweet fragrance of artificial strawberry flavoring drifts over and Aomine scrunches his nose up as Kuroko refills his shot glass once, twice, thrice, and more. At the twelfth shot, the boy's hands are trembling, unsteady, and the bottle almost tips over the edge. Aomine steadies it and moves it away, brows furrowed in concern but he doesn't speak.

"Oh…" Kuroko lifts his head. The fragments of pain visible in those usually warm cerulean orbs embed themselves into Aomine's heart, and Aomine winces, wanting nothing but to wrap his arms around the suddenly frail boy. "Aomine."

His voice is cracked, uncertain, but Aomine replies as naturally as he can. "Hey. Weren't you supposed to be having a sleepover at Kagami's?"

At this, Kuroko starts to laugh, and Aomine is terrified. _Utterly_ terrified, because it is then that he realizes how laughter could sound so sad, so hollow. He lets the boy laugh, palms slapping against the table so carelessly the bartender reaches over and snatches up the shot glass Kuroko had been using. Then the tears start, and Aomine stands up, pressing Kuroko's head to his stomach, lips dwindling into a thin line. He has never seen Kuroko this vulnerable, and he doesn't like it one bit.

"Kuroko, let's go."

The boy hauls himself up, leaning his weight against Aomine as he sobs, hands clutching at his shirt as if he's his only lifeline, and in that moment, it is nothing but the truth.

Aomine guides Kuroko to where his car is, and settles the boy into the passenger side, taking great pains to make sure the seatbelt is clipped and tight, contemplating taking another furtive glance at him and deciding not to, because with every new tear that spills, Aomine feels his throat tightening.

The drive back is silent, filled with little hiccups and sniffles, until they reach the crossroads.

"Turn left."

"You mean right," Aomine turns his head, unable to resist lifting an eyebrow. Was the boy so drunk that he couldn't remember the directions to his own apartment?

"No, left. I don't want to go home."

"Then where will you go?"

Kuroko doesn't reply, staring blankly out the windscreen as the traffic lights go green and his exasperated friend tugs the steering wheel to the left. But Aomine knows, even without having to ask, that Kuroko had been throwing him a silent plea to let him crash at his place.

Aomine sighs, but when he pulls over at the parking lot and helps the broken, tipsy boy out of the car, he finds himself thinking that Kuroko looks beautiful with his cheeks flushed and his swollen eyes half-lidded.

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**A/N: as usual, review please? Recently I've gotten so busy I worry about my writing a lot. Like, did it get rusty and stuff. D:**


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